


I Tasted Honey on Your Lips

by hedgerowhag



Series: Our Earthly Time is Sweetening [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Sex, Animal Death, Discussion of Rape, Hux is a pretty thing, Kylo is a petty devil who likes pretty things, M/M, Obsession, Russian Mythology, Stalking, The Tables Will Table, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 10:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7432234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shivering in the darkness of the birches between ferns, out onto forest path where the lone traveller had passed steps a dark figure.</p><p>Though it stands as if a man, there is not a glimpse of human skin on this creature – all covered in black coarse hair, its broad thighs curving into the feet of a goat as a tail whips between its legs, tipped with a brush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Tasted Honey on Your Lips

**Author's Note:**

> my buddy, my dude, my bro, im screwed, that is acknowledged. i A CCEPT.
> 
>  
> 
> also, im aware that people are getting sick of AUs but you know what? fuck that. here, eat my other ten thousand AUs.  
> as always, this was written while i was fucked over drunk and i dont remember writing half of it??? (just ask Isabelle who has been forced to deal with me).  
> 

Water drips from the low branches of the slender birches, pattering down to the mossy ground and the cracked stumps of the fallen pines. The air is filled with the smell of the water swollen earth and the unfurling ferns beneath which grow the toadstools and cep.

There is nothing but the sound of the rain as the animals and the birds hide in the evening depths of the forest, fleeting into the deep shadowed nooks of the branches and roots of the trees.

A single moss pelted trail weaves amongst the trees, leading over the smoothed earth and arching roots, by the broad pines and the bowing branches of the birches.

Suddenly, somewhere along that slender path, the ring of a bell sounds, trembling through the dense woods like the call of a singing bird. The bell is joined by another and another, sending the rain alight with their song.

They approach, these bells, closer and closer and in a sudden, out from the hidden corner of the forest trail, appears the figure of a man carrying a basket upon one shoulder. Painted by the rain, his pale skin appears like pearlescent ice, his cheeks trailed by the crimson lines of his long hair that falls across his shoulders.

Clothed in a sodden embroidered white tunic, his red trousers are rolled to mid-calf and upon his slender ankles there are cuffs of painted leather, stitched to which are silver bells that sing with every footfall.  

As the traveller walks, his blue-green eyes follow the forest path, his bare feet careful as if in a dance, lips moving in a soundless prayer – stung red by the settling summer cold. Unhurried, he makes his way through the silent woods and soon he is lost out of sight as the bells echo his steps, off to take the path over the bogs through thickets that never knew any face of man.

As the sound of the silver bells falls away, something shivers in the foliage of the pines, clicking and clacking against the bark as raindrops patter down furiously with the disturbance.

Like a shadow on the water, something drops over the red bark of a pine, slowly dripping towards the ground.

Shivering in the darkness of the birches between ferns, out onto forest path where the lone traveller had passed steps a dark figure.

Though it stands as if a man, there is not a glimpse of human skin on this creature – all covered in black coarse hair, its broad thighs curving into the feet of a goat as a tail whips between its legs, tipped with a brush.

A foul, beastly thing this creature seems but its torso, chest and arms are human, black as if dusted with soot that is darker than pitch. And yet, from the neck onwards hair creeps up on the skin as its face bears a stumped muzzle and between the large, perking ears and the curved horns, two wide brown eyes stare out of the darkness onto the forest path.

Day in and day out, this creature follows the red-haired man, trailing in his footsteps. Bewitched as he makes his way to the village from the lone hut that stands amidst the forest atop the heaving stones form which water drips and the gnarled birches crowd.

Every time the beast sees the traveller his hollow chest fills with unbearable, lustful need and yet he can never approach for those darned silver bells burn his ears like red hot pokers – sending him away heaving with pain. It is only when the man bathes in the forest lake does he discard the bells. But into such water the beast cannot go for it moves with the waves of the entering river.

Hungered for the taste of the pale skin and the touch of the silk copper hair between his fingers, the creature that has been cursed with the name of Kylo follows the innocent man at his heels, licking his red tongue about his ghastly muzzle, slavering from his curling lips.

He knows that he will have the red-haired man, by whatever means he must take.

 

\- o - 

 

The skies are clear as the sun touches the horizon of the forests and out in the village the markets are open. Dogs yap between the hooves of the plodding horses, the children play and the women gossip as the men bring in carts filled with the harvest of the fields.

There is a woman walking amidst the crowds with her pale hair slung in a thick braid over one shoulder, a scarf loose over her head. At the thick belt that slings on the hips of her skirts there is ring of iron keys and a sickle that glints in the sun. Her red boots flick aside the tall grasses as she walks beside a red-haired man, his pale eyes wandering across the girdle of the forest that swallows around a trailing path.

“I ought to take the road with you,” the woman says to her companion. “I have heard people speak, they say that they have seen terrible things walk in the woods – ungodly things.”

The red-haired man laughs, his smile white. “It is nothing that I haven’t encountered before, I am sure,” he says as he stops on the slope of the trail that weaves amongst the grass, the silver bells ringing about his ankles.

“Hux,” the woman says, arms folded across her chest. “I really insist.”

“And I insist that you don’t worry. It won’t be anything that I have not faced before.”

The companions split away: as the woman remains standing by the village pastures with a frown on her lips as Hux disappears between the birches at the forest edge, his red hair caught in the glimpse of the sunlight.

Though the hour is late and time does not pause its flight, the day never seems to end as the sun turns scarlet and the sky becomes plum and violet, ribboned with blue and pink at the edges. In its twilight chorus the forest passes around Hux as he wanders between the leaning pines, unaware of the shadows that follows him at his heels and of the red tongue licking yellow teeth.

About the fallen rocks where the adders sleep, the road splits and forks: the right path leading to the marshes while the left to the pine stippled slope and down to the glass lake.

The left path Hux takes, his footsteps wandering as the ground begins to curve and the gnarled birches fall away and the swamped earth evens. Between the pines he goes, disappearing amongst their tall red bodies as the shadow follows him in the scarlet haze of the sun.

When Hux approaches the edge of the mirror lake and his bare feet touch by the lapping waves, Kylo remains behind the girdle of the pines, his snouted grimace following the man as he undresses.

When the tunic is unlaced and the cloth slips from the shoulders the demon feels slobber catch on his lips and drip from his hanging tongue. The belt clicks and clacks and falls down the narrow hips, followed by the trousers until the man stands bare but for the bracelets on his ankles.

Stepping from foot to foot, Hux watches the silver bells sing against his skin, glinting innocently in the sun. At last, kneeling down on the pebbled shore, he takes the lacing that holds the cuffs and pulls it apart, leaving the bells to lie with his clothing.

Naked as the day of his first blessing, Hux steps from the shore and into the scarlet water that ripples with golden crests as it envelops his white skin like frothing ox blood. Not once does he falter as the water consumes him whole, his milky shoulder and copper head ducking beneath the surface with only the rising bubbles to remind of his presence.

Leaning out from where he holds himself against a pine, Kylo feels his breath hitch as he waits for the pale figure to reappear, the crooked nails of his hands digging into the crumbling bark.

Moments, beats of breath later, the copper head reappears, hair clinging to the smooth lines of the throat and the sharp edges of the shoulders. Hux gulps down the air as Kylo watches with hunger the water cascade from the slender arms and down the narrow back.

Hux brushes his sodden hair away from his face, red lips agape as droplets catch on his eyelashes. So bewitched by the sight of the bathing man, Kylo barely notices the presence of a beast approaching from the wood.

It is only when his lapping tongue tastes the air that he senses the presence of a lone wolf meandering down towards the lake, hungered and stranded from its pack. Kylo can feel the catching interest of the wolf on the vulnerable form rising from the lake water, the tender flesh that is undefended by claws of iron or shields of leather.

As if a prize to be taken, the wolf scampers towards the man in the water, tongue lolling as it approaches.

Rage rolls onto Kylo as he feels his tusks clench, scraping against each other in unfurling fury. He feels his skin falter and twitch, shifting between the mask that he has formed of brown fur and soot skin and the sun-neglected pallor of his true demeanour as if the rippling hind of a hound.

His eyes follow the grey form of the approaching wolf at the forest edge, prowling low as it watches its prey. With the roll of his shoulders, the fur crawls back over Kylo’s pale skin that colours black as he steps from hiding.

The hooves of Kylo’s feet patter against the pine needle floor, tail flicking in between the shadows. The wolf remains unaware, yellow eyes fixed on his aim, until the last moment when a black hand reaches forth and seizes it by the scruff, yanking to the ground with a sharp yelp.

Hux hears a sound and his hands cupping the water falter. He looks to the shore but sees nothing but the red casted shadows. He listens carefully but hears nothing. Must just be the wind. Or the squirrels playing chase in the branches.

Out of sight, beyond the reach of the sun, the mangled remains of a grey wolf lie on the forest floor. The wet innards sprawled across the ground, white bones peeking out from the fractured head as something drips down onto the earth.

Kylo stands over the carcass, his chest heaving as his fury eases. When he looks back to the lake, he sees Hux – oblivious to the danger that had come his way. If he knew, he surely would be thankful, sure to pay for what Kylo has done for him. But Kylo knows he will shake in fear, call for help, call for the men to cut the creature down.

Grumbling with anger, Kylo tramples around the corpse, his tail snapping about his hooved heels. If it has not been for the damned silver bells, Kylo would have already staked his claim on the most beautiful visage of innocence that he has witnessed walk this earth. He must rid of them and then Hux will be his for taking.

Looking down onto the empty body of the wolf, the slick lips of Kylo’s muzzle turn upwards in an askew grin.

In his dark pawed hands, Kylo takes up the body and rips it at the seams, shacking out the remains of the living creature before throwing the matted pelt over his shoulders. Like cinders his form collapses and amidst the pines stands a dark, gnarled wolf.

Swaying forth on its paws, the wolf descends from the forest edge to the shore of the lake, brown eyes watching the disappearing form of the pale shoulders and copper hair. Sun crawling over its hide, the beast edges towards the piled clothing on the pebbles and presses its muzzle into the fabric, breathing deeply and snorting as it roots about.

Suddenly, the wolf jerks back. Then tentatively, it presses back in, hooking on his teeth the leather straps that jingle the silver bells. Looking over the water of the lake, the wolf pulls back from the scattered clothing, jerking away and bowing its head every time the silver bells sound.

Behind the escaping wolf, water surges and footsteps slap against the shallowing surface.

“You foul creature!” Hux cries out as he trudges with fury towards the wolf.

The beast wastes no moment to scamper from the lake edge towards the shadowed pines, slipping in between the red giants and running across the forest floor, bristled and wary as he hears Hux call after him.

As if fate itself is mocking him, the wolf’s hits against the root of a pine and in the unfurling tangles of blood cloyed fur, Kylo falls to the ground – face bare of the ghastly mask he wears to hide his pale face. Clawing across the ground, he grasps the bells, whimpering in pain as they ring.

Wet footsteps sound behind Kylo. Panting, he looks over his shoulder to see Hux – hair sodden and roughly clothed, face creased with irritation.

Peering out among the trees, Hux continues upwards along the slope of the wooded hill. Catching his breath, he leans beside a tree, wiping away the sweat from his brow. As he steps forward to continue, he feels something slide under his foot.

With a gasp, Hux jerks back. The sole of his foot is painted red and beneath it he sees the mangled pink of bloodied skin covered in matted fur. As if a snake has thrown off its skin, there are pieces of flesh and hair – stinking in the stillness of the warm air.

Hux grimaces and covers his nose and mouth from the smell. With narrowed eyes he looks up ahead into the lines of the trees and steps ahead into the forest, his footfalls silent in the absence of the silver bells.

Above, in the canopy of a swaying pine, Kylo crouches upon a creaking branch, his hooved legs clattering against the bark and breathing stuttering. His hands remain clenched over the smoothed shapes of the bells that rattle helplessly in his fingers.

Though Hux now remains helplessly vulnerable to Kylo’s want, he would never let him see himself like this: skin shifting in tremors from panic, spasming with every breath before eventually settling on the pale flesh of his true face and the terrible young eyes.

No, he will approach his prize of desire as he should be: with the greatest courtesy and care, with a face that will strike desire – not fear – and words that will sweeten the claiming.

Not now, though, not yet – he can’t.

Teeth grinding painfully, Kylo holds up the bells before his eyes, glinting bright in the setting light of the sun. A growl bubbles through his throat and Kylo flings the accursed things that kept him from his beloved.

The silver bells clattered somewhere against the branches, trembling as their cords tangle in the needles, left to swing helplessly against the wind.

 

\- o -

 

The barking aches through the forest – tired from the sound of the restless yapping mutt as it echoes on the watery ground of the swamps that swallow around the crooked birches. Even the birds have hushed, seeking shelter from the racket.

The only other sound besides the wheezing of the tethered dog is the gurgle of the frothing stream that bubbles from between the hefted boulders upon which a squat timber cottage is set – tangled by the rising leaves of the overgrown fragrant shrubs. Beneath the cottage, the water pools in the shallow depressions that have been dug by the stream’s constant flow as it floods down the land, forming bogs that feed the mossy ground of the birch forest.

Suddenly, a faint blow of the wind steals down through the branches of the trees and rattles the chimes of silver plate that drop from the overhang of the cottage’s crooked roof. They sing gentle and low, daring to try and soothe and agitated dog that whines and growls on the pulling strain of its leash that is beaten to the rock under the cottage.  

Though the mutt seems to begin to calm from the sound of the chimes, the clicking and clanging makes Kylo flinch and shiver where he sits in the branches of the gnarled birches some distance from the house. He often comes to sit there once Hux has disappeared behind the door of pine and iron nails. As soon as he comes within the distance of the house, the dog that Hux persists to keep as his guards begins to spit and slobber with anger, bearing its teeth at what its master cannot see.

As time went on, even Hux began to ignore the damned beast though many times during the night he came out of the door to stand beside the creature and watch the dark line of the birches to no avail.

Though Kylo has grown hateful towards the snivelling mutt, he still remains to wait for Hux. And so, whenever the curtains lift, Kylo would lurch forward, impatient to see a sign of Hux’s lovely pale face and the copper locks of his hair. But often he is disappointed and falls into brooding silence through the darkness until the arrival of the morning light when he runs to his hiding at the toll of the church bell.

Today, when Hux leaves his home, and Kylo knows he will, Kylo will follow him and – at last – approach him where he will have no means by which to hide or fight. There will be no silver to sing its wretched song, there will be no beast to come to heel before Hux and try to set its teeth into Kylo’s throat.

It has been long now, perhaps night is finally setting and yet Hux remains within the locked walls of the cottage – only leaving briefly to bring slop for the collared mutt. While standing by the door before disappearing once more, Hux’s eyes had fleeted to the green depths of the marshlands, but saw nothing but shadows where Kylo stood – masked with the head of the snouted beast.

With his cheek pressed up against the peeling bark of the birch, Kylo begins to feel his mind begin to haze – numbed by the soft drift of the warm summer air. It’s already becoming dark and Kylo’s lids are drooping with exhaustion from forcing himself to stay awake during the spell of the day.

Something clangs in the forest and Kylo jerks awake, his clawed hands piercing into the supple bark of the tree. Steel hinges groan as Hux shuts the door of his home. He stands on stone slab steps that lead down to the swampy ground, there is a carrying pole on one of his shoulders upon which are hang two empty pails.

The mutt drops away from its stance by the edge of the solid ground and runs towards Hux, its mangled tail wagging desperately. And yet, it only gains a brief brush of the fingers against its head as Hux steps across the running stream and leaves by the faint trail leading out into the woods.

Though the water that runs from the stone upon which the cottage sits is fresh and clear as the spell of the summer day break, Hux never touches it, not even when the weather is most menacing. Instead, he goes out to the well just beyond the bogs, covered in moss and lichen, so dark and deep it’s impossible to say how it might ever end.

As Hux takes the trail, Kylo watches his back, eyes wide and impatient. Once the man is out of sight, Kylo gently descends from the branch where he rested and walks across the mossy ground along the gurgling stream that froths as if boiling.

Not a moment of silence passes before he hears the mutt begin to bark again, its thick buckled collar yanking against its neck as it pulls against the strain, jerking forward on its hind legs.

Kylo watches the creature with distaste, his lip curling as the yellowed teeth bare. Gums red and pink tongue lapping, the dog grimaces at Kylo.

What an awful excuse for a guardian, Kylo supposes, it will not do well for Hux, and besides, he will no longer need this beast; he will have Kylo. So it will only be prudent to rid of the creature.

It’s easy, taking the leash that holds the mutt and yanking it up – its pink jaw too far out of reach to bite – before breaking the rope away from the stone. As the teeth click and clack, the claws scratching against the air, the rope is frown over a single branch and the mutt is wrenched upward.

A pathetic whimper screeches out of its throat and kicks only for a moment before something cracks and the dog hangs limp, legs jerking in final spasms of death.

The rope slips from Kylo’s hands and the small corpse drops to the ground.

As if water, Kylo feels the dark skin and the brissled hairs drops away from his flesh, to reveal the pink. No, this won’t do, he thinks for he still stands with feet hooved and tail whipping about his knees, horns crowning his unruly head.

Like spring’s raw green skin, a flush of brown creeps through his charcoal hair and his legs form the human sinews. Uneasy, Kylo steps from foot to foot. Hands reach to his face and the harsh angles and uneven facets smooth and change.

At last, clothing of pure white and vibrant red falls over his skin. Feet, booted in supple leather, step across the moss, carrying a prince of illusion and malice.

 

Beneath the larch, the well rises like an ancient stump of a long gone fir, cushioned with the old mosses that crawl upon it. The timber frame that hold the rope is worn by the rains of the summers and the thaw of winters, marred beyond the recognition of life.

The handle creaks as it is turned and the first pail is raised up from the black depths where the cool water laps. Hux pulls the bucket toward himself and unhooks it from the rope. Setting it aside, he reaches for the next pail but as he turns, a glimmer of white catches his eye. Hux turns around sharply.

Out from between the larch, as if a fallen ray of the sun, comes forth striding a man clothed in spun gold, white and red. His steps slow as his eyes fall on Hux.

“You appear lost?” Hux calls to the stranger, setting the pail onto the rim of the water well with unfazed calm.

A bashful smile spreads across the stranger’s lips as he flushes with embarrassment. “It would seem so.” Carefully he steps closer, the evening light spilling through the orange clouds catches on his dark hair – colouring it gold.

“A terrible hour to lose your way,” murmurs Hux, turning back to his task, fingers running carelessly along the wood of the pail. “You never know why comes wandering through the forest.”

“The same I can say for you,” says the man, yet closer again. “I almost crept on you without you even noticing. What if it was someone who meant you ill?”

“I am hardly helpless,” Hux smiles – tense; he feels warmth not of the summer air brush over his neck – too close for his liking. His fingertips circle the head of a hammered nail in the wall of the pail.

“Are you certain?”

“You don’t know what I am capable of.”

From the corner of his eye, Hux sees hands reach out towards him – trembling with effort to hold back.

Not a breath or warning, not a second of hesitation, the iron nail is wrung out of the timber and swung in a clenched fist into the softness of the stranger’s shoulder – twisted down to his chest.

The man cries out in shock – pain – and clutches to the wound though no blood pours as he stumbles. Instead, smoke falls in grey billows from between his clutching fingers.

The man lets out a broken, panicked shout, clawing madly at the wound as he bows in onto himself. The cloud of smoke rises around him, consuming his form until he is gone from sight.

Jaw tightly clenched and chest stuttering with every breath, Hux watches as the smoke slowly begins to dissipate and reveal emptiness where the man once stood before him.

Suddenly, a wailing cry rises into the air and as if caught by the wind, the last of the smoke cloud twists and churns. The cry breaks off, pitching off into a whimper when suddenly something dark and bowed hurtles out of the billows, flinging itself towards Hux. Taloned hands grasp him by his braced arms and throw him to the ground, sending him tumbling down across the moss.

Halting his fall, Hux hefts himself onto his arms and looks to the well where the smoke rises as a dark figure crouches on the stone.

He sees it, the God’s accursed creature, more beast than man. Its skin shivers with waves of colour – faltering between pale flesh and a furred hide. Shivering in pain, the creature turns its horned head to Hux and bears its tusks from under the lips of the snouted muzzle.

Their eyes lock on one another. A second no longer than a breath passes.

Hux wrenches himself from the ground but as he moves, hooves beat against the stone of the wall and the last he sees is the slip of the tail disappearing in the darkness.

“No! You damned fool!” cries Hux and throws himself to the well, reaching into the darkness of its belly. Something brushes between his fingers and without hesitance, he clasps his hand around it and begins to pull.

A pained screech echoes in the well as Hux braces his feet against the stone and begins to heave up the weight with all his strength.

“Return here, you dumb creature,” Hux grits between his teeth. “I have not finished with you.”

As if resigned of the fight, the resistance drops away and Hux wrestles the furred, dark thing out of the water well, yanking it up by the scruff of its neck.

Hooved feet kick as the beast drops to the ground, yowling and clawing when Hux wraps the brush tipped tail around one wrist and gives it a yank. When it begins to crawl away, snivelling and mewling, Hux wrenches the thing back towards him by the coiled tail.

“I said.” Hux raises the hand that continues to hold the iron nail. “I am not _finished_.” The metal is brought down against the creature’s back and it hisses and smokes like a brand.

The beast screeches and coils like a serpent, clawing the ground, attempting to get away, but too weak to escape its captor.

“I have seen you watching me,” Hux spits, forcing the heel of his bare foot onto the creature’s back, “and I know that you shadow my steps like a skulking hound.” He tugs the tail, bending it back to the spine. “You thought you could chase me like a prey, but you are not the only one who plays this game.”

The creature says nothing, hiding its snout against the ground and Hux sneers at the pitiful sight.

“Pathetic.” The tail still twisted around his wrist, Hux steps above the creature, his feet on either side of its back. “Desperate.” He crouches above it and leans forward, slowly allowing his weight to press down onto the creature. “Disgusting… _thing_ ,” he breathes, against its furred ear, feeling the beast flinch.

Baring the iron in his fist, Hux presses the heel of his palm over the creature’s naked back and up the spine to the nape of the neck covered in curled black hair as thick as coils of beaten wire. Fingers trailing, he feels the tender skin where it closes around the horns.

“This is not your true face, is it not?” Hux whispers, his voice cold.

The Kylo makes no sound, only huddles closer to the ground as he tries to turn from the man who captured him in a moment of blind foolishness.

“Speak!” The iron nail is pressed point first against the creature’s skull. Kylo whimpers, smoke trailing from his flesh. “I know you can.”

“No…” Kylo croaks, body shacking as he feels Hux’s loom over him, the iron clenched in his hand a burning presence against the base of his skull, “it is not.”

How terribly he has misjudged the frail, beautiful creature that has captured him with his unearthly presence. Now he lies beneath the body that he wanted to ravage – caught in the act of his recklessness.

He has been a fool. Blinded by his own lust.

“Show me your face. Show me who you _are._ ”

There is no place to hide for Kylo, no shame to cover under illusion for it has all been exposed. So he shakes away the last of it, like a coat dropped to the ground as the ghastly pallor creeps across his skin – pink and soft, grown weak from being hidden for so long.

A laugh sounds above Kylo. Something thumps softly against the low grass. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the iron nail glint in the fading light.

A hand brushes through Kylo’s hair, tugging at his ears and the tips of his horns. His breath falters when he feels the fingertips touch against his jaw, following lower. A sharp tug to the scruff of the hair on his chin forces Kylo’s head to the side. He refuses to look up, tightly shutting his eyes when a single finger traces his cheek.

“Look at what I have caught,” Hux says with a grin in his voice. “Such a beautiful beast.”

Kylo’s eyes open wide, his breathing ragged. How would Hux possibly say such a thing? Surely it is mocking.

Carefully, he turns and looks over his shoulder, numb from fear to the hand that guides his face up.

Though shadowed from view by the copper spills of his hair, Kylo sees not a sign to be seen of rage or disgust on Hux’s features. Only curiosity and tender interest plays on his lovely face as he leans down to be only a breath from Kylo, observing him eagerly, his pale eyes roaming.

Suddenly, Hux stands and steps away from his captured prize, his hold on Kylo’s tail slipping.

“To your feet.”

When Kylo does not move a yank is delivered to his tail and he comes stumbling to a stand, his hooved feet slipping on the moss.

“Face me.”

Kylo turns, desperate to please Hux even as he is.

When he sees the pale eyes follow the lines of his body, Kylo looks away, feeling the urge to bow down – make himself smaller – in front of a man to whom all should kneel for they have been given the grace of being in his presence.

When the hand releases his tail and allows it slip free, there is something in the pit of Kylo’s stomach that makes him want to chase that feeling of Hux’s skin upon his own – how long has he wait to feel this? How can he allow it to disappear so quickly?

“What is your name?”

Kylo refuses to raise his eyes and his lips make no effort to move.

Again, Hux pulls his face up by his scruffy beard and forces him to look. Pale eyes search his own and Kylo quivers under their insistence.

“Tell me.” Hux steps forward.

“Kylo,” he whispers.

“Kylo…” Hux mimics with a murmur, stepping yet nearer to the creature. “Such a lovely thing you are.” They are standing so close, almost chest to chest, Hux’s hand holding Kylo’s face almost in tenderness – he can hardly breathe. “If you wanted something from me, you should have only asked.”

Tentatively, Hux raises his other hand and brushes his fingertips over Kylo’s right shoulder where the nail had pierced flesh, feeling the muscles flinch as Kylo forces himself not to run; how can he not wince at the thought that Hux is seeing him like _this_? He should not have misjudged. And yet, his lust overweighs his fear.

Even closer Hux leans, his eyes half-lidded, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “What is it that you want?” His breath brushes over Kylo’s cheeks and he shivers, chest hitching with need. “What is it, Kylo?”

Lips only move soundlessly when Kylo’s tries to speak, throat clicking dryly as his eyes follow Hux’s grinning lips.

“Maybe this is what you wanted.”

Any protest that hung on Kylo’s tongue becomes silenced when Hux leans up and presses the softness of his lips against kylo’s.

All fears, all arguments fail in Kylo’s mind and he swears that he can feel the earth shudder under his feet and the trees groan as if in fear of this unholy union of beauty and monstrosity.

An absurd need swells in the back of Kylo’s mind to pull away should he pollute Hux with the horror of his body. But this urge becomes quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of Hux pulling his closer by his chin and biting down softly on his lip, a tongue brushing over Kylo’s trembling mouth.

Hux pulls back and Kylo cannot help but fall after him. “Is this what you wanted?” he whispers, pale eyes sly and cheeks blushed.

“Yes…” whimpers Kylo. “Yes.” His words are gasping, desperate, but it only makes Hux smile brighter.

“Then take for what you waited for so long,” Hux says and his breath is shuck out of his chest when Kylo wrenches forward and grasps his arms around Hux’s body, lips locking together in something that is no more than a bite of possession.

Their feet stumbling, Hux breaks the kiss with laughter erupting past his lips. “That’s it, you disgusting, beautiful creature.” Throwing his arms around Kylo’s neck, he pulls the beast down towards him and laughs again when he feels teeth bury in his neck.

Control a figment of the past, Kylo paws at Hux’s clothes, pulling away his shirt and clawing at the softness of the stomach as he laps at the pale, freckled neck.

“Take me as you want, you damned thing,” Hux cries out as the bites leave purple blossoms on his flesh. “Come, take me, I’m yours.” And then he his grabbed by the narrow width of his waist and turned around only to be thrusted forward against the stone of the well.

Breathlessly, Hux laughs as a weight falls against his back, burning like the fire of a blacksmith’s forge. Kylo presses his face up against every silver of skin that he can find, pressing bites to everything he can possess, impatient to tear down the clothes from Hux’s back – but still uncertain.

As Hux pushes back against Kylo, a searching hand slipping down from his hip to grasp the undeniable sign of his arousal. Whimpering the feeling of Kylo’s hands on him, Hux falls against the stone, head dropped onto his braced arms, legs trembling when the burning heat of a palm slips past the confines of his trousers.

“What a sweet gentle thing you are,” laughs Hux, pushing against Kylo’s hand as he palms his hardening length. “If only I… could keep you...”

Kylo falters between his bites, glancing up at Hux’s flushed face, there is a smile bearing wicked white teeth.

“Would you—,” he whispers against Hux’s neck, “Would you wish for that?”

Reaching back, Hux wrings Kylo forward by the curve of a horn and grins widely. “How could I not? How could anyone not want you?” Forcing Kylo closer, he gives him a possessive kiss that attempts to linger. “I would have you, and we would wreak havoc in the temple of God,” Hux speaks between their kisses, biting into each other’s bloodied lips. “Just us.”

Kylo, unbelieving of what he hears, watches Hux as his pale features flush like the ripened skin of fruit.

“Have me then,” he says, unable to stop the dumb smile that he gives in return and attempts to stifle with the pressure of his lips against Hux’s. “Have me— I will belong to you. And you— You will belong to me,” Kylo reverently says, pressing kisses and licks to the bite reddened skin of Hux’s jaw and neck.  

“Then claim me, you wretched thing,” Hux moans – impatient in his own desire. Suddenly, fingers twist in his copper hair, keeping him in place as Kylo forces him to bow before biting down at the base of his neck where the spine stretches the translucent skin.

Hux wails deliciously under the bite, pressing back against the hand that brushes over his hip under the cloth of his trousers, scratching nails over the flush of his ass and slips lower to feels the heat of his body.

At last, when the bite eases and red lines have been etched into the reddening skin, Hux turns in the tight brace of Kylo’s arms and wrings apart the belt that clasps around his waist. Slipping his trousers down, he pushes himself up onto the stone wall of the well.

Seeing the bareness of Hux’s body, Kylo pushes close but he is held away by a palm held against his chest.

“Have patience before you can take what’s yours,” coos Hux and Kylo can do nothing but watch with an open mouthed expression when Hux slips fingers between his own reddened lips and begins to suck and lick.

He watches the globs of spit run down Hux’s bitten fingers, panting like a mutt in heat. Too soon, the fingers are pulled from the slick heat of Hux’s mouth and pushed downward under the cover of the white tunic where they disappear out of sight.

A mewl of wanton need slips from Hux’s lips and Kylo crowds around him, hands holding him by the thighs and nosing the space behind Hux’s ear where rust coloured hair tickles against his lips. Curiously, Kylo rucks up the tunic and trails his hand where Hux’s own vanish from view.

Laying his palm over the bony knuckles, he follows the fingers to feel the slickness that coat them and then— His breath hitches when Hux whimpers at the feeling of Kylo touching the stretched skin of his entrance where the fingers pump in and out, knuckles tensing as shudders run through Hux’s body.

“Kylo—,” Hux whispers in the heated space between them. Their eyes meet – Hux’s glassy and dazed as Kylo searches for answers in their unspilled tears of pleasure. “Will you have me?”

It is only the remaining grain of hindrance that holds Kylo back from hurting Hux irreparably as he pushes him onto his stomach, head lolling over the black water of the well.

Kylo leans over the plaint body beneath him, face buried in the tangles of copper as his hands bruise the pale hips, rutting aimlessly against the swell of Hux’s rear. As the wet head of his cock catches against the stretched, spit slicked entrance, Kylo can hear Hux gasp, impatiently pushing back.

“Get on with it,” Hux scowls. “Filthy, disgusting—.” The last of the words are knocked out of his throat as a cry when Kylo finally enters him in one sharp thrust as if no more than an animal.

In pain and shock Hux howls, trying not to buckle under the unrestrained shove of Kylo’s hips as his overwhelming girth is forced inside his body. Hux can feel the tail covered in wiry hairs whip against his thighs, animal legs pushing up against his as Kylo steadies himself.

“Move,” Hux mushes back with a groan, “you big, dumb _thing_.”

The words spur Kylo on to lean down against Hux, hands pressed on the stone beside his as his teeth gnaw above the worn collar of the Hux’s tunic.

If ever Hux attempted to speak – or to curse him – whatever the syllables that he may have attempted to form are beaten into short, senseless gasps as Kylo thrusted into him like a dog in the maddened frenzy of its heat – head pressed down against the shoulder blades, horns digging into the tender skin.

Pushing his legs apart further wide, Hux shift back, feeling the coarse hairs of Kylo’s hips scratch against his ass as his is filled before becoming empty until the hard wretched length is forced back inside him, again and again.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Hux moans hiccupping in pleasure.

Drawing his thrusts slower and yet deeper, Kylo lets his hand fall away from the stone – cold – and drops it to Hux’s cock as it leaks heavily. With a hard grip Kylo begins to stroke him, calloused fingers scratching over the fragile skin.

Hux wails, his voice breaking, back arching under Kylo’s chest. “Damn you,” he whimpers, “damn you— Ah!” A gasp cracks his voice when Kylo grinds his hips against him, filling him so deliciously he knows that he cannot last any longer.

When Kylo’s movements become erratic, Hux reaches down between his legs, past the hand that strokes him with wild possession to where they are joined. It’s the slickness that he feels first, running down in his skin in rivulets of spit and Kylo’s own lust.

Suddenly, they are stilling and as Kylo presses deeper inside Hux, his hand around him tightens as the other wraps firmly around his waist. He feels it beneath his fingertips first, the steady pulses that shudder Kylo’s cock.

Wet, shivering breath brushes against Hux’s neck before a sudden bite is delivered into the softness of his shoulder. He cries for the final time as wetness drips down his thighs. The sound becomes weaker as Kylo licks at the wound on his neck, tasting the copper – just as on the outside, so much beauty.

When Hux begins to pant, Kylo palms his chest under the shirt, running his fingers over the work hardened muscles covered in a thin sheen of sweat, feeling the flush of heat of his skin, making Hux whimper with every touch.

Reaching over his shoulder, Hux takes Kylo by the neck and digs his nails into the nape, dragging him into a wet kiss as they remain locked.

“My sweet thing,” whispers Hux, his nails leaving red trails as they clench on Kylo’s jaw. “You are mine.”

Kylo smiles; it is all that he wished to hear and in a moment of delirious joy kisses Hux again.

Though the filth of their union covers their flesh, Kylo has never felt cleaner, never more free even with the toll of God’s bell in the air.

 

The daybreak has begun to purple the sky as clouds grow pink and church bells call from the pastures beyond the forest. The morning chorus of the birds is rising in the foliage of the birch, shacking away the sleepers as the tolls tremble through the air.

Distant echoes are these sounds there where man does not dare to walk, but a murky thought in the cottage amidst the woods where the water gurgles from the rock and flows into the sprawls of the swamps.

Inside the cottage walls, a cat purrs by the crackling hearth as the blue smoke rises out of the chimney. The garlands of strung up plants sway gently in the wafts of the rising warm air from the fire and the rafters creak softly as the wood settles in the cool of the morning.

It is warm, almost stifling within the house, but the water inside the bubbling pregnant bellied pot that hangs in the middle of the large room is winter cold. The water overflows the steel rim and surges down over the curving sides, running to the cut entry way in the floor and onto the rocks below.

The cat stretches on the rug, its orange fur glowing like struck embers. Licking at its short muzzle, it ambles leisurely from the hearth and across the timber floor, past the overstuffed bed covered in goose feather blankets and pillows to the window where the blue light of the morn falls.

The bells chime again and the covers on the bed shift, falling back and drooping down onto the floor to reveal two figures lying on the thick mattress.

Sighing against the pillow, Hux turns, his copper hair draping over his flushed cheeks and parted red lips as his hands tighten their hold on the weight that presses down on his chest.

Like a large, lethargic beast, Kylo nuzzles back against Hux’s chest, the curves of his horns gently bumping against his chin. Their bodies are naked and filthy, but Kylo presses against Hux as if he is made of diamond and pearl, purer than silk or gold.

In the sated state between sleep and wake, Kylo feels Hux’s fingers trace underneath the thick band of leather that cuts across his neck and a pleasured groan escapes past his lips. He chases that feeling.

With every shift of the collar, the iron buckle touches against Kylo’s throat, branding the flesh pink and red – raw. And yet, he does not mind; like the bruises in shape of teeth, purpled and mottled, it is but another mark of Hux’s claim on Kylo’s body and he will thank him for it. They both share these marks – this ownership.

Outside the house, the water runs and the bells continue to ring.

A magpie jumps onto the windowsill where the cat sits and chortles when the orange creature strikes its paw towards it before flying off into the forest where the darkness waits.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> please dont take sex tips from me, my guy. i also need to stop comparing kylo to a dog. oh gosH. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> a quick explanation: i might have been thinking too much about 'Christmas Eve' by N. Gogol and about demons and witches. so this stupid thing happened (and it might get a sequel???) 
> 
> if anyone wants to beat me to death with a rake, y'all can find me drinking myself stupid on tumblr ([main](http://beeeeebeeee.tumblr.com/) or [side blog](http://ki-kimora.tumblr.com/)) (if anyone has any questions and/or complaints, that is the best way to get hold of me fyi)


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